Knighttime Training
= Camelot Park, May 25th 2019 = In a part of the park that people seem to avoid... Swords clashed, metal against metal. In the pauses between, someone shouted before resuming the clash. For the most part, Camelot Park was relatively abandoned at this point in the day and the week. However, two figures sparked their blades against one another. Part of the park was cordoned off with tall roots and hedges. Acacio sat on a woven chair hanging off two tree branches while Rosea loomed over half the area, providing some much-needed shade. Gwen and Dindrane were training in the makeshift arena. Gwen was trying to parry Dindrane’s blows so that she could create an opening and come in closer, but her movements were too wide and erratic, leaving herself more open instead of creating openings in her opponent’s defence. Dindrane had always been fast, but it seemed years of sleep had slowed her down. Still, Gwen merely managed to block her, blow after blow. The girl held up her steel sword, a borrowed blade, and moved out of the way of a mighty cleave. She retreated backwards. “Hey,” she panted, “Break soon? You must be getting worn out!” Dindrane’s moves were slow compared to her brothers’ but she still struck with speed and strength. “Don’t worry about how soon the break is. Worry about how long the battle will be,” she shouted back, emphasizing every two words with a strike. Despite higher-than-average endurance that bordered on the magical, Dindrane appeared more and more haggard as the duel went on. Gwen’s defence was admirable but her ability to capitalize on opportunities of attack still needed to be honed. Soon, Dindrane called for a break and the two walked over to where the weapons rack was brought out. “You’re doing pretty well with the basic training sword despite being gone from any formal Avalonian training for a while.” “Haha yeah--” Gwen laughed nervously, before reminding herself that Dindrane already knew about Nimue. “Yeah, I had some teachers after the dragon was defeated, and more recently I had Nimue to guide me. Ever since she left me, I’ve been trying to pick it up more again. Plus I had some sparring lessons from Elle while we were on a mission in space for a couple of weeks.” She hung up the sword with care and gave a soft caress over the guard. Then, she leaned down to her messenger bag that lay next to the rack to take out a water bottle. She took a gulp from it, then held it out for Dindrane. “You’re doing pretty well with your knight’s sword despite being gone from everything for a while, yourself,” Gwen commented. Her tone was complimentary, but yet she smirked a little. Dindrane laughed and took the bottle, taking a long sip before handing it back. “I’ve had over a decade of training with this sword so I better be good with it,” she replied, leaning her hand on the hilt as it rested in the scabbard tied to her waist. She dragged over a vaguely humanoid practice dummy made of concrete, rebar, and whatever could be magicked together by Acacio. “Break time over for now, onto the next lesson. I want you to hit this dummy where it matters.” As if shifting into a completely different person, Dindranes features took on a more serious tone that was battle-hardened. It was at this point that Gwen could recognize the reason why Dindrane became a knight only a few years after the others despite the 8 year age gap. Gwen groans. “Target dummies? Really? There’s a boring cliche.” She picks up a mace from the weapons rack and spins it around, feeling its weight. She shifts it between her hands as she walks closer to the haphazard-looking target dummy and looks it over. “What’s a spot on a dummy that is ‘where it matters’? On a living target there’s weak points, like the throat, solar plexus, soft underbelly, groin, or leg joints,” Gwen says, taking a swing at it without putting a lot of strength into it. She looks it over again after taking the swing. “Though I guess in a non-uniform thing like this, there’s other weak points? It’d be easier to identify in a building made of this same stuff.” The concrete shedded some dust but showed no signs of giving. Dindrane shook her head and stepped up behind Gwen, pointing to various areas on the dummy. “When you hit the target, go for what you can identify as weak points. See there, between what could be considered the neck and shoulder? If you were to swing at that with even half the strength you’re using now, you could deal a strike that could stop them in their tracks.” On the rack, a variety of weapons were on display but Dindrane chose a warhammer and dragged another dummy beside. “In a battle, even the smallest millisecond of air can make the difference between life and death. Before you blink, take a moment to see exactly where you can strike your opponent then… go!” she lunged with speed at the dummy and brought the hammer down on a small crack where the rebar protruded slightly like an elbow. The forearm of the dummy cracked inward and chunks of concrete fell off. “Nice one Dindin, only 5% of your strength that time!” Acacio shouted over his drink that had a lilly umbrella in it. Gwen clapped after Dindrane hit the dummy and wrecked it, holding the mace under one arm. “Encore!” she shouted. She took the mace from under her arm and spun it around. “Alright,” she took a deep breath. Then she took two steps and swung out, holding the mace in two hands, hitting the dummy on the side of the head. A loud crack resounded through the air as bits of concrete flew off. Gwen hopped back, light on her feet, spinning the mace around again, almost like she was dancing with it. She had a triumphant look on her face. She was clearly enjoying this. She jumped forward again, hitting the dummy again and again. After the 4th swing, the head of the dummy was nothing more than rubble with some rebar sticking out of it. Dindrane’s face was concerned but she was hiding something under it. “Gwen, Gwen, Gwen, hold on. Step back and take a moment,” Dindrane pulled Gwen’s arm back before she swung again and plucked the mace with her other hand. She gently placed it back onto the tool rack. Gwen took deep breaths as she took a step back by Dindrane’s suggestion. “What’s up?” she asked the knight. Dindrane stepped over, took the water bottle, and placed it in Gwen’s hand. “One hit was all you needed, especially if you’re trying to disable an opponent. If this were to happen in battle, you would have hurt them far worse than desired. Sit.” She wiped a bit of concrete dust of Gwen’s cheek and took a seat, expecting Gwen to follow. Gwen opened her mouth to protest, “if you have an enemy, you always double-tap, don’t you? What do you do if you don’t have more enemies that threaten you while you’re trying to take someone down?” She made an indignant noise and sat down in the grass, taking a gulp of water. She tried to hide her face with the bottle by drinking more than she needed to, feeling like her face was showing more frustration than she knew Dindrane deserved to get from her. “Making sure an enemy is taken down is different than exerting more energy than needed,” Dindrane responded. Gwen’s frustration was familiar. The best way to deal with it was head-on and to channel it somewhere healthy. “I only need one swing because I know the limits of my strength and how much I should put in. It’s the same way Galahad can reflexively block full blows without straining himself and redirect them.” She squished both of Gwen’s cheeks between one of her hands and looked straight at her. “If you know yourself, those kinds of questions will be answered without worry. Have confidence in your power level and the next blows you deal with precision will strike true.” Gwen made an uncomfortable and sad but understanding expression as Dindrane squished her cheeks. A bit of water squirted out from between her lips before she managed to swallow the rest. “Sorry,” she quickly apologized, “but… I understand. I guess it’s just hard to train and find the upper limits of your strength while also learning to limit your strength when you need to? Previously, I had Nimue to guide me and hold me back, which I guess was both a bad thing and a good thing.” She put up her hands and squished Dindrane’s cheeks like she was squishing hers. “Thanks for being my teacher, big sis DinDin. I guess I’ve got a longer way to go than I thought.” Despite the mutual cheek squishing, Dindrane lifted her other arm and brought the elbow down hard, pushing Gwen’s arm away from her face while simultaneously pulling Gwen forward with her other hand. “Break time over. Let’s do some training with an opponent who can hit back.” she swept herself up onto her feet in one swift motion and held out a hand for Gwen. Gwen hopped up onto her feet with Dindrane’s help. “Bold of you to assume you’ll hit me,” she joked confidently. “Swords again? Or something else this time?” “Unarmed combat. Just in case you misplace your sword again.” A small smirk spread across Dindrane’s face as she put up her arms and prepared herself in a defencive position. “Your sword is merely an extension of your arm. Your arm is merely an extension of your body. Your body is merely an extension of your mind. Repeat them back to me.” She waited for Gwen to strike first. Gwen made her hands into fists, uncurled her fingers and repeated the motion by her sides, getting eager. She tilted her head at the motion of misplaced swords, getting a questioning look on her face as she briefly wondered if Dindrane was making a dig at her for Nimue’s abandonment of her, but she decided to ignore it and shrug it off. “My sword is an extension of my arm. My arm is an extension of my body. My body is an extension of my mind,” she repeated. “...I guess I better make sure to do better in History class from now on to improve my mind.” And visit Dr. Harrison again after this, she added as a mental note. The thought nearly got knocked out of her head as a jab to her collarbone sent shocks up and down her nervous system. Dindrane retracted her hand. “Repeat only those words and strike. Someone might knock everything else out of your head so you should at least keep one thing,” she said as she tapped her left side to indicate an opening. “Ouch!” Gwen yelped, rubbing her collarbone and looking incredulously at Dindrane. She swore slightly under her breath, but took up her stance again and took a deep breath. “My sword is an extension of my arm. My arm is an extension of my body. My body is an extension of my mind,” she jabbed at Dindrane’s left with her fist. “My sword is an extension of my arm,” she said again as she jabbed a second time this time at Dindrane’s right. “My arm is an extension of my body,” she gave a hook at Dindrane’s left as she came closer. “My body is an extension of my mind,” she punched at the center of Dindrane’s chest. Their training went on for a while longer like that, with Dindrane expounding lessons she herself had been taught years ago, Gwen stubbornly trying to do things her way, and the two of them exchanging blows as they sparred until they became hungry. Category:Gwendolyn du Lac Category:Scenes